My best friend

My best friend died yesterday, September 12, 2015. I'd had her for 14 years, 2 months, and 15 days. We had experienced so much together and I will admit that she's probably the main reason I went on so many day trips. She died of old age, maybe complicated by some cancer. We know she had lipomas, but I suspect there were malignant tumors inside. Over the last couple of months, she drastically lost weight despite having a good appetite. But in the last 2 weeks, it seems, she pretty much stopped eating. 

On the afternoon of September 11, I was supposed to go to the gym with the kids, but my trainer wanted to postpone for the next morning. I picked up the kids and went home, planning on going to the ice rink after letting the dogs out. But when I got in, Baja was listless and would not get up. When I finally coaxed her up, her back legs looked more emaciated and her feet were more medial, making it look like her legs were bending outward. She managed only a couple of steps and basically plopped down. I blamed it, initially, on her weakening legs and the slippery tile. She's had a weak, stiff hip for a couple of years now and I guessed it had gotten a bit worse and maybe even progressed to the other hip. But when I picked her up, something didn't feel right. It's like she just didn't want to any more. She was just done. I helped her outside and she managed a few more steps before falling over. Then a strange, almost involuntary movement of her head to the side, as if she was going to fall over to her side. As the night progressed, it was clear there was something incredibly serious. When I'd carry her, she was lighter than the day I got her at the LASPCA - 28lbs. I don't know how much she weighed at the end, I didn't care. But she would whimper in my arms, something she'd never done unless she was distressed that she couldn't chase a squirrel. She'd also let her head droop to my shoulder as if she had given up fighting. I laid her in her bed, talked to her, covered her up, and told her I received the message. It was time. 

LB was working at the bar that night and the kids were already asleep, having been granted the gift of being able to say goodnight and goodbye. At 1:49am, he took her to the 24h vet and by 4am he was back. The vet had agreed that there was something serious and they could take blood and tissue samples, but there was no point. Baja was over 15 years old and I was so blessed to have so many great adventures. As much as I desperately had wanted her to die in her sleep at home, this was a selfish wish because every time I checked on her at the foot of my bed, her eyes were wide open and her breathing was rapid. She was stressed and most likely in pain. It was time, no doubt. 

A few years ago, I'd always wondered what I'd do when this time came. Would I have her cremated and placed on the fireplace mantle? No, weird. Would I have her stuffed so I could keep her forever? No, creepy. Would I bury her? I hoped so. But LB was faced with the decision of what to do with her body while at the vet and I don't blame him for leaving her there. It was way to late at night/early in the morning to expect him to dig a hole. And where would he dig it? If he buried her in the backyard, it would only be a matter of time before Otto or Mr. Sparkles dug it up. Or, would her smell freak the shit out of them? The front yard? Maybe, but what would the neighbors think of him digging a hole in the middle of the night?! My first thought goes to the mafia. I didn't see her when he took her to the vet, in part because he woke me up from one of the 3 1h naps I got that entire night. But also because I just couldn't bring myself to see her like that. I am left guilt-ridden that I didn't say goodbye to her when LB took her, but I hope she accepts that I wanted all the good memories to come to the forefront. And they did. 

I remember paying for her when I got a call on my (first) cell phone that my niece, Abigail, had been born. 

I remember our first night together, where I put you into the kennel of a Rottweiler that I was dog-sitting. You would not stop yelping that I finally let you out, then spent the rest of the night kicking you out of the bed. Keeping you off the bed lasted only one more night, and by the 3rd night you were curled up by my legs ... and that was fine with me. 

I remember all the times we went to Audubon Park so she could run off-leash and chase a ball.

I remember all the times she ran next to me as I biked to a coffee shop, bar, or the levees to study or play. And how, after playing, she'd be so tired she couldn't even walk any more. I took my backpack and fashioned it so that her back legs and tail could stick out while I carried her on my back on the bike to go home. People loved it and we ended up being photographed and reported on by a reporter visiting from Kansas (I think) who saw us ride by on the way to the levee and then back home. He thought it was so awesome that we had not only the relationship but the trust to do that. 

I remember the stingray toy she had that she masterfully would throw onto her back and then play as though it was attaching her. 

I remember how incredibly fast she would chase her tail. Then stop. Then chase it in the other direction. 

I remember her butt bounce, a still unexplained behavior. 

I remember when we moved to California and she had to adjust to the awful heat and hot concrete. 

I remember how she would sprint through the townhouse and, on the night I'd met LB and he was there, she actually jumped onto the uprighted futon to land right behind him and she just kept going. What an introduction. 

I remember the hikes in the canyons and the weekend trips to Big Bear. I remember her snowsuit that had been custom made while we were still in NOLA.

I remember the wooden horse statues that she barked at, adamant that they were a threat.

I remember how she used to sleep behind my legs.

I remember how she loved to stick her head out the window during car drives and would bark at lane stripping as it whizzed by. 

I remember her smell, which lingered in the bedroom for several hours after she was gone. 

I remember her Fri-toes. 

I remember how she accepted Beau as the second in command and how it seemed she had to teach him the fundamentals of being a dog. 

I remember how you ate pounds and pounds of seafood from Rockin' Baja Lobster.

I remember, after LB brought home 3 yellow fin tuna in a cooler, how you managed to open the lid and get your head in, only to be thwarted by LB after he realized you had snuck away. 

I remember out drive to Seattle and how she once again got to experience snow. 

I remember how she greeted NMTB, with an air of arrogance that she was not going to tolerate this, but wouldn't hurt him either.

I remember how she'd walk away with her ribs swaying side to side when NMTB cried too much, as if he was interrupting her beauty sleep. 

I remember how, when we were back in CA, how she somehow pulled one or both of the chickens through a small opening in the fence. I remember how I went outside because of some commotion and screamed out of panic, where she then dropped the chicken. Her jaw was chattering, maybe from the excitement and anticipation of being able to eat this thing, and feathers sticking out of her mouth.

I remember when, while LB was in San Antonio, how she spent day and night, literally, digging out the slope in the backyard hunting down a gopher-type rodent. I finally heard a squeal, amazing given the relatively small, hamster-like size of it. She'd won. Then she slept. 

I remember how curious she was about AITB and how I didn't worry about their relationship.

I remember moving the Texas and her seeming to remember the awful humidity, but that it was somehow comforting.

I remember how completely accepting she was when we took Mr. Sparkles in as a foster and how he saw her as his protector. 

I remember taking her hiking in Government Canyon, getting lost, and realizing she had signs of dehydration and that we needed help. 

I remember her becoming a bit slower, but still wanting to play. 

I remember how she lit up when Otto joined the family (Nov 2013)

I remember how she took over LB's side of the bed when he left for a work assignment for 8mo. 

I remember how absolutely delighted she was when he came home, but I remember, too, how I thought she'd slowed down a lot. 

I remember how much the kids love her. 

But most of all, I remember how great our bond was. The last days and hours will be remembered, but those pale to all these other memories. She was an incredible dog that I had the blessing of knowing for an incredibly long time. I'm so thankful for that and that she was my first dog, my first responsibility. I'm grateful that she helped shape me in a way nothing else has. I hope she's enjoying all the chew toys, rawhides, live chickens, butt bounce-friendly couches, and chest rubs up in doggie heaven. I hope I'll get to see her when it's my time. 

And here are some pictures of our memorial dinner in her honor that night at Altdorf Biergarten in Fredericksburg, TX. She loved sausage so much, so I figured this would be a great tribute. We had a sausage plate appetizer, but forgot to take a picture of it. 

And in this first full day without her, I realize how much she did around here. The 3 dogs are acting like male teenagers, body slamming each other in the backyard. Apparently, she kept these guys in check. Whenever I dropped or spilled food, she was the first one to clean it up and she was never really picky about it. She'd clean plates, too. I've lost a really dependable friend and it's clear there are no substitutes when it comes to her dedication to food. 

Enjoy your sausages, Baroni. I will always love you for everything you did for me. I hope I was a good owner for you and that you lived a happy life. 

Release of the Demons

It’s 6am on the second day of the New Year, my last weekday of vacation. I’ve been up since 4, since my 3 year old daughter woke up screaming like a banshee. I got out of bed, shushing my way over to her room that she shares with her brother. I get her in my arms, she clutches me like a newborn monkey, and I notice her brother is not in his bed. I ask her where he is, then I hear him say “I’m over here” … turns out, he couldn’t sleep still after his midnight visit to see if I was still awake – which I was – then moved two pillows and a blanket out onto the couch. He’s always had weird sleep issues, since the day he was born.  He’s had an incredible fear darkness and being alone, something his sister really doesn’t have at all, even when she tries to mimic his fear. I think this fear is deeper than just the typical baby, toddler, young kid fear that everyone – including myself – tend to think of. He cannot be rationalized out of his fear, as if he truly did see something that scared him. He doesn’t have the wildest imagination; indeed he’s very grounded, rational, and logical. He is sensitive but not wimpy, extremely empathetic but can be brutal (not violent). He’s easily influenced by things around him, both good and bad examples, and is clearly already trying to find out who he is. So where this fear came from is a mystery. Nothing in his life, except for a tough birth, would suggest that he so instantly required someone by his side almost all the time, especially when he slept. He slept in our arms or on our chests all through his first year and transitioning him through any new sleep adventure was difficult. So, I think his sleeping on the couch was because the Christmas tree was still lit and the light from the fish tank along with the bubbling of the filter probably soothed him where nothing else would.

But his sleep issue is not what I wanted to write about. Instead, it’s an epiphany I had while restless as the 3 year old slept happily next to me. Yesterday, I found a job posting on USAJOBS. It’s exactly what I would have gone for after my PhD if I’d had clarity. It’s a research compliance position with the VA in West Haven, CT (CT is where we want to move to before my son starts high school, so this early departure from Texas would have been very, very welcome). The job basically requires that the employee review animal care and research proposals for compliance with state and federal regulations. I had wanted to go into regulatory affairs already long ago and, after the last research job in CA where animals were routinely misused and misappropriated, I was eager to find a more ethical line of work. Hence, my departure from research; but this position with the VA would have been great for so many reasons. So I applied, contacted a former boss at another VA that I worked at hoping he’d serve as a reference should it be needed, and then put the kids to bed.

Then comes 5.30 … and in an effort to get some more hours of sleep before the dogs rouse and kids wake up, I play some Liquid Mind music. Moments later, I’m in a lucid dream state that startles me awake. I was back having my intense feelings of guilt and regret over all the years I did animal research. I knew, in 2001, that going into a lab and going to grad school, that this was a necessary evil, but that if I worked hard, I’d get a faculty position and be out of the forced animal work. Indeed I did work very hard, being labeled as a super star by faculty and peers by the time I finished my degree. But post-doctoral work just didn’t fill a gap I had. For a while I thought it was my difficulty transitioning or not understanding how the VA worked or regretting not having taken a break between graduation and starting post-doc work. But, I was 6 months pregnant by the time I finished and really probably couldn’t take another 7 months (3 pre-partum and 4 post-partum) of vacation, not with the pathetic grad student stipend and LB’s lack of work in WA (and the impending financial clusterfuck in 2009 that would financially decimate us, even now in 2015). But I think more than anything, I was resistant to operating on and killing another rat. I had won a dissertation writing grant which removed me from animal work since I’d collected all data. I had people working under my direction to minimize my exposure to animals since I had such totally batshitinsane allergies by the beginning of 2008 that without a stash of Benadryl I would never have finished the work. It was marvelous … exactly what I had imagined faculty would be. But there I was, in postdocs without access to undergrads or techs that would do certain tasks. The work I did in the second postdoc was miserable, not technically difficult at all, but no variation in technique or consultation with experts ever produced convincing, reproducible results. Either I sucked or the hypothesis was too narrowly constructed. Even worse, to my own sense of science, was when something did work, I was discouraged from pursuing what it was, since I couldn’t say definitely what it was without more work. I mean, isn’t that science?! God, I was pissed at that point … and also, as if divine, pregnant again. I was lucky to have a very astute OB NP who picked up at the 5.5-6mo check-up that something was very, very wrong with me. Had she not said something, I might have just chalked everything up to being pregnant, not the environment I was working in. I’m also thankful to the OB who listened, weighed the options, and gave me the out I desperately needed. [There’s more to the issue of me leaving the last job than just not getting to pursue this one finding. A LOT more.]

That's me, sucker of souls. 

As I lay awake, not just picturing the surgical techniques, the transcardial perfusions, the handling of the rats, but also feeling the pain and anxiety of the rats undergoing the procedures, I realized that there is no way I can do this job at the CT VA. I cannot read what other investigators are going to do and be ok with it. It’s a reason I won’t now go to law school (aside from the gender and age biases rampant in that overloaded field) – I just don’t want to see the level of evil that humans are capable of. I admire my friends, especially those in something like family law, where the pay is anything but marvelous and they see some incredibly heinous things that go on. Maybe they get through it because it makes them feel good to get the kids out of bad situations. But those situations tend to stay with me, deep inside me. Just like all the things I did with the rats … I knew what I was doing, but I had a personal end-goal, so I pushed it all aside, ignoring it, staying focused and not taking time off. It’s clear in retrospect that not taking a true vacation like other students was my way of chugging through the bad parts of my job. But this also hurt me in my relationship with my oldest brother. After the death of our mother, I went back to school – obligated to finish up 2 quarters of TAships but at the same time unable to return to clean out the house. I was in such an unbelievably dark place as a graduate student – I mean really, really, really, really dark … so dark that now in my awake state I have virtually no connection to it as I did earlier this morning in my lucid dream state. It was so dark, I was so focused, I could let no light in. The death of my mother pushed me into an even deeper darkness that I was minimally emotional. Yes, she was dead and I was sad. But the rest of me was almost sociopathically apathetic. I was so committed to the dark recesses of work that I also didn’t realize the importance of my role in helping to clean out my mother’s house. I really was ignorant of the implications of my absence. I wish I could write here that I avoided it actively and made up some story about having to teach and blah blah blah. But it was true – I did have to teach; I got shit for having missed 3 weeks of a new quarter … honestly, I think that was bullshit from the professor, but whatever, I caved. And I think any conscience or regret I had at the time was lost in the grotesque darkness of my … soul?

As I finally, for the first time in 10 years since my mother died January 4, recognized the immensity of my personal darkness, I cried uncontrollably. I could not believe the evil, for the purposes of this writing, since I know of no other word that even remotely describes what this is, that poured out of me. It was like a movie, where all the evil a person has accumulated through their life releases upon their death, where all the souls the devil has stolen suddenly become free upon some sort of battle that slays his evil. And then, I realized, I will have to withdraw my application. I cannot put myself back into this position of having the daily task of handling what goes on with animals. I am not the sort of person who compartmentalizes well – sure, I did in grad school – but no longer. Every aspect of my life is intertwined. I cannot approve work on animals without simultaneously thinking about my own children or pets. My empathy towards animals runs so deep and has been part of me since I was my daughter’s age that I cannot sacrifice it for a couple of tens of thousands of dollars more in salary.

My epiphany was not nearly as golden and pleasant. 

Some people may not understand and scoff at my ‘weakness’. But it is who I am. My life is not defined by how much money I have. It matters to me that I have a roof over my head and can provide for my family. But I don’t need a bunch of stuff. I’d rather have a warm, fuzzy dog lying next to me, thankful he is no longer sleeping on cold concrete, worrying if he’ll be next to be euthanized, knowing he’s always going to have food and buddies to play with and a place to call home, than have a bigger tv, fancier car, etc. As it is, we are extremely “lucky” (we deserve it, we earned it) to have what we have … two very healthy kids, both of whom ice skate, one of whom plays hockey (the other wants to), private school, vacation time, and a loving partnership. Yes I wish we lived closer to family in a place that had 4 seasons (one that includes real snow), but for now we have everything we need. And my inner darkness seems to have left me this morning. Or maybe I just hallucinated the physical freeing of this burden from a lack of sleep … I know that I'm really happy in my new career and I'm damn good at it. Happy ending. 

And a former research scientist. 

But I do know that I owe my brothers an apology for not having been there when they needed me. It’s not an excuse and the reason seems lame, but there was a lot of pressure on me to be in CA or else lose my whopping $20k stipend and have nothing to fall back upon. 

There, I said it ... and I posted it!

I'm in the midst of an emotional meltdown. I don't think it's a breakdown, because I haven't suddenly just fallen and broken into a thousand little pieces. No. I've slowly succumb to a miserable heat generated by a hurried lifestyle, an ingrained sense that being late to anything is tantamount to a deadly sin, and a flurry of anxiety, origin unknown. Well, unknown for the most part.

It's been 10 years since I last saw my mother in any sort of functional capacity. Christmas 2004 was a time when I saw her in a totally new, genuinely weakened state. Metastatic breast cancer that, 3 days later, would grow sufficiently in her brain that she'd have seizures in front of me, prompting a call for an ambulance and then, what she didn't want at all, treatment that led to an induced coma in which we waited for the inevitable demise of the physical body.

These 10 years have given me plenty of time to finally sort out who I was, as ever since I can remember, I have lived this life of what she wanted me to be ... or what she wanted out of me that she could never get, do, achieve, etc. I'm still somewhat angry about the years, experiences, that were taken from me by her from this regard, how I can never make the experiences again as I'm too old to not look totally idiotic doing them. I've achieved some things based on my own interests, but I often wonder if the foundations of those interests weren't actually forced upon me. I do think it is important for parents to guide and facilitate, not to stand idly by as their children try to tread their way through things. But I don't think it's appropriate to dictate entirely what is done when, how, and where. I also think it's critical for parents, now being one myself and having what seem like out-of-body experiences when I criticize my kids over what amount to the little things, to not go all out with the critiques that I believe make a kid overwhelming self-conscious when coupled with the life-long control of the when, how, and where. So that's where I think I get my anxiety from ... the heart-pounding fear that being late to a faculty meeting results in "all eyes on me, judging me, thinking to themselves how disappointing I am, despite all the promise I have, the potential I'm not living up to." The self-doubt and lack of confidence and the resulting desire to close myself off to the world because I can't handle that anxiety of being judged.

When I think about it all, it's wholly irrational. I know I'm fucking awesome but that I need work hard(er) to keep that awesomeness. I know I'm not super gorgeous by the American anorexic standards, but that I sure am classically beautiful. I'm smart as all hell, though that does prompt me to engage in arguments (debates) for the hell of it. I'm lucky to have a tight-knit group of friends who do the same, whose opinions are vast, varied, and respected. I'm lucky to have a best friend who is also a loyal, trustworthy husband. I'm ever so thankful for the healthy kids I managed to bake and pop out, but at the same time bark at - no, yell, full out yell at - when things aren't done perfectly like an adult would do. I have high standards, but I need to fucking check myself with them. They ARE kids. They ARE learning. I WANT them to live THEIR lives knowing that their father and I will always be here, NOT judging them. I don't know, though, how to spiral my way back out of the abyss I've been in since I was about 15 that finally showed there was some light after all once I was 25, after my mother died. Yes, I'm sad that she died, that my kids don't have the grandmother that my one nephew got to experience. But I don't miss the anguish, the micromanaging, the control. No, I'm happy - thrilled beyond belief - that it's finally gone. Yes, I feel guilty for saying that, but not nearly as guilty as I feel for being a raging asshole to my kids, my son in particular. I recently found myself thinking that I shouldn't have had kids, that I wasn't cut out for this role. That I'm probably producing some sort of mass-murdering psychopath who will invariably have mommy issues.

I wish I could just cut myself off from the world for a few months, to genuinely find myself. To experience those things I missed out on between ages 15-25. I just really need a pause, skip, or whatever button. But I'm always the one who has to be there for everyone, to temper the wide ranging emotions of the people around me, to be the rational, scientific one. It's tiring and I think I've earned a break. But it's always other people who seem to get the breaks ... the real recuperative, relaxing breaks, the ones where you come back knowing again who you are, why you're here, why you're doing what you're doing day in and day out. Right now, I'm just done and I need to get more than an hour or two to myself. I've lived for other people for the last 35 years, with very few exceptions, none of them substantially long-term enough to learn about myself ... the only true exception to this was a year I spent with a host family in Germany which, within a year of my return, my mother proclaimed "the worst decision ever made" because, apparently, I came back a different person. Wow, there's a surprise, I got to know my teenage-self and realized, though unable to articulate it, who I was or wanted to be. How in the fuck is that the worst decision ever? And here we go, the renewal of my own mommy issues.

What's the point of this posting? Not much really. I just needed time and space to unload. I keep things so bottled up so much of the time without much release in any meaningful way, so this is how I can vent, sitting on my bed, delaying my own kids' bedtime to write this down. So on that note, off I go, back to the real world after a short 30min writing session....

Getting kicked out of the Y

As you may know, running does not come easily to me. I've had some heinous leg injuries that often cause excruciating, radiating, throbbing pain to my legs whenever I spend a lot of time on my feet or moving back and forth, like when packing up my classroom. As a result, there's been some serious weight gain. I found that VFFs 'fixed' my ankle back in 2007-ish and have not worn any other type of shoe since. However, Vibram no longer makes the most comfortable and effective barefoot running shoe for me, so I've turned to two other barefoot shoes: Mini-Mil boots boots for wet, cold weather and/or hiking and Luna Sandals for everyday wear in warm, dry weather or easy walks/hikes. While I might experience pain after a long day or hike in either of these a few times a year, I don't get the near-daily pain ... the kind that made me need narcotic pain killers just to get through the day. [Let me tell you those drugs are wonderful, but highly addictive, and the migraines I got when I purposely didn't take them were just as debilitating as the leg pain! Be careful if you ever find yourself on something like Tramadol!] I try to surround myself with healthy, open-minded, adventurous people that can keep me on track, motivated, and supported, even if unintentionally. These are friends of mine I trust and who might also struggle with issues of exercise motivation, scheduling, dietary restrictions, etc. I love to swim, but after a few heart-pumping laps, I start to have small jerks that mimic myoclonic seizures ... that's no fun. I could do biking, but I left mine in CA when we moved to TX and what would I do with the two small kids, one of whom does not yet ride proficiently enough? I do have a stationary bike in the house, but man, that can get booooooring.

Now that summer has arrived, I restarted out Y membership. I found I was paying for a family city-wide membership but we could never get to the facilities given the crazy, late schedules we kept. Whenever we did go, the kids were too tired and were a nightmare to deal with. I looked forward to this summer with excitement and a goal: get to the gym 3-4x per week, put the kids the childcare, and follow the C25K routine, which had been so great to me during my most recent maternity leave. Then, spend the rest of the day running the errands, playing, getting ready for kindergarten, etc., etc.

Day 1 ... the plan came to a screeching halt. The kids were in the childcare, AITB not having been too thrilled to be in a new, unfamiliar setting, but she did ok since NMTB was there with her ... Honestly, I had to tell them she was 3 - which she will be in September - to insure they would be on the same side of the room, otherwise, they would have been split up and her crying-fest would surely have led to the end of my session. I go over to the treadmills, get started on C25K, and then see the notice on all of the treadmills: They are reserved for skills, drills, and fastest mile, a class held the same day and time I was there at. Great. Whatever, I thought to myself. I had seen them out in the field and there were obviously more treadmills than participants. Two people ended up on either side of me and their trainer would record how fast their treadmill miles were. Everything was going swimmingly .... until 23 minutes into my 30 minute workout, when this little, petite girl came over, tapped me on the shoulder, and motioned me to take my headphones off. I paused the C25K app and treadmill to listen to her tell me that because I'm wearing sandals, I can't be in the gym. I say "these are running sandals, look them up lunasandals.com". She seemed genuinely surprised but, being powerless, said she had to enforce whatever someone told her. There was some more back and forth, fruitlessly. I got off, said I'd cancel my membership because of this, and went to collect the kids. At this point, I'm nice and warmed up, sweaty, and not in any condition to be told to get out of the gym. I had just barely hit the endorphin release that I enjoy getting .... I wasn't in any sort of pain .... I had a great rhythm going ... and I was meeting my goal. I asked another woman at the desk to speak to a manager about how/why huaraches aren't allowed, which led to yet another surprised look, one that I interpreted as "yeah, huaraches are running sandals, why can't you have them?" and I ended up speaking with what I can only describe as a bureaucratic nincompoop. I asked him what the deal is, why it is that they don't allow these running sandals that have been around so much longer than "covered shoes" to use his phrase. His reason is that I "could scrape my foot on the moving belt". What?! I could scrape my foot wearing POS flip-flops at the pool. This argument fell upon death - or dumb - ears, then rebutted with that I could use other cardio equipment. No go, dude, because ellipticals force the ankle to bend too extremely for my ankle to tolerate and my knee can't handle that movement either. Plus, why are shoelaces allowed on treadmills? Haven't you ever had a shoelace come untied??? Oh dear, what if that happens on the treadmill, and it gets caught in the belt and your paying customer has a serious injury? The difference between these custom-made huaraches and flip flops or tennis shoes is that they are cut to the size and shape of my foot and formed to the curvature or my arch through use and held securely in place, wrapped comfortably around my ankle, with a single leather strap. I showed him this, that there was absolutely not one millimeter of extraneous material or unsecured leather strapping. No matter, I wasn't allowed in the gym area, near or far away from weights, with these sandals, even if they were designed for running through centuries of design. [A witty person told me I should have told this guy that Jesus ran in sandals, to see if the Christian part of YMCA could be dealt with using humor.]

I asked this manager why he only presented me with a problem and no solution. I was very clear that I could obtain PCP, orthopedist, pain management specialists, and other medical doctor notes to attest to my inability to wear traditional athletic shoes. Only momentarily did this seem to move the incident in my direction, but just as quickly the manager went back to his position that these huaraches were absolutely unacceptable. So, here we are, cancellation forms filled out citing intolerance of special needs by the manager as my reason for canceling. I really wanted this to work ... the kids like the splash pad and swim lessons and I liked that I was heading in the right direction. 

One snivvly little jerk of a manager and now I have to replan the summer. I'll check out the other gyms, like Gold's, Fitness 19, Lifetime Fitness, etc., but, with the exception of Gold's which I have yet to visit, haven't enjoyed the facilities or childcare. I don't mind going to the parks, either, but was hoping for a reprieve from the heat and humidity that can torture me and the kids, never mind aggravate the seizures. I also now have to find a pool, lake, or river to bring the kids on our off-days. The only "good" thing about this is that, due to their 30 day cancellation policy, I'll be charged in 10d for another month of membership, which means our membership ends mid July. At least I have time to find solutions - and am willing to be creative, unlike Mr. I-Only-See-Problems-and-Won't-Work-With-You-On-This Manager. I just hope the kids become comfortable enough in the water so that next summer will be spent at the community pool without having to dole out oodles of money for more lessons. This way, I can just run 2/3 mile there and back without anyone telling me I can't wear my sandals. 

Sum-sum-summertime!

We - the two kids and I - spent 6 weeks of the summer visiting friends and family in the Northeast. It was an incredibly challenging experience, travelling alone with two small kids, one an energetic, sometimes spacey 4 year old and a 21 month old who adores her father to pieces. Well, we all adore him, but she, in particular, is attached to him like crazy to the point where I sometimes feel like she couldn't care less for me. But we went because I wanted a vacation and the kids needed to meet my family. AITB, had yet to meet anyone! It had been 2 years since NMTB last saw my father and it was at his baptism in WA that he last saw anyone else! I hadn't been back to there for more than 36h since, I believe, shortly after my mother died in 2005. Time to visit indeed. 

Packing for 6 weeks for three in an efficient way so as to make checking in at the airport, being in the plane, traveling by trains and cars easy and practical was by far the hardest part. Luckily, I didn't have to travel initially with a travel crib and thankfully I had a double stroller to transport either the kids or the luggage. We stayed in the Baltimore area for two nights at first, visiting with family and friends, checking out the National Zoo with a friend of mine from college who lived locally and getting adjusted to our new way of "out of the suitcase" living. 

National Zoo, Washington DC

It was a hectic 2 day visit, but nonetheless enjoyable. On the third day we took a train to visit some friends in the NJ/NYC area and this is where the packing became most tricky. Because the kids are so little, they still require car seats. Prior to the trip I had researched all the options, including this little number, a seemingly very practical alternative to the bulky car seats I ended up using. The double stroller, a Graco duo glide, was so useful in transporting these seats while still allowing AITB to be shuttled around in the front seat. If I had been able to see the travel car seat vest thingies in person, I might have bought them, but at $135 a piece, I didn't want to risk them being the wrong size or not working as well as they are advertised. I also decided not to take the available travel crib and instead opted to buy a new one once we got to our destination in NJ. So, we piled into the train in Baltimore headed for Newark Airport to get a rental car. Amazingly, the kids took to the train like they had always traveled this way. For AITB, it was her 2nd train ride in her life, having taken a 25h ride from California to Texas at the wee young age of 10 days old. For NMTB, it was his first train ride and he loved it. Within an hour, both of them had fallen asleep on top of each other - quite a hilarious sight!

Nothing makes traveling easier than when your kids fall asleep!

They navigated the airport monorail system with easy, making my job of pushing the car seat-loaded stroller while dragging the wheeled suitcase and carrying the 40L backpack so much easier. For NMTB, this was an exciting time of learning valuable listening and leadership skills as I had put him in charge of being the line leader (with me providing GPS-like directions) and pushing elevator buttons. I realized during this trip, too, just how excellent it is to have 2 kids so close in age because AITB is seeing this remarkably responsible behavior from NMTB and, by the end of the trip, was beginning to model it herself. 

In New Jersey, we got to spend time with my CIA-trained chef/SAHM friend from way back in middle school. It's shocking to me that we haven't seen each other in over 15 years yet somehow it was as though only a year or two had gone by and we miraculously had kids ranging from under to 2 to 10 years old. I'm sure reconnecting on Facebook helped, but still the reunion was easy from my perspective. Her kids were inspiring to NMTB as he hasn't really spent time with kids older than him - actually, his birthday sets up him to usually be stuck with younger kids at school - and it was refreshing to see him develop some independence, even if it came with increased freshness and backtalking. This is where AITB started to develop a better relationship with me, though she did absolutely love the middle brother, who showed her the most gentle, brotherly affection and attention. That our hosts had two dogs was also a great way for the kids to transition to an intensive travel/visiting/touristy schedule, since it gave them something very familiar that they missed a lot throughout the whole trip. On one of the days where the kids and their father went to the shore - yes, the Jersey shore - my friend had NMTB help her make pizza dough from scratch. This was another huge thing for him because he absolutely loves competitive cooking and seems to play shows like Chopped in his head for what seems to be all day long. He's even introduced the theme of the show to his classroom at school while he and friends "compete" in the play kitchen. The pizzas turned out great and was a very memorable thing for him, in particular. 

Learning how to make the dough

His completed pizza

"Hobbits" checking out the lavender garden

Upon the boys' return, we got to spend some time in the community pool. NMTB has, since we first introduced him to a pool when he was 3mo old, had some major issues with water. He loves bathtime, but whenever he'd go into a pool, he'd be scared, clinging to one of us for dear life, then at night waking up screaming as though he'd had a dream he was drowning. Even putting him in formal swim lessons at age 2 didn't solve the issue, so we just avoided pools altogether, to my dismay. Last summer I did take him tubing with the San Antonio Nature Hounds when they had an outing to a local river. I got him a vest and we bought a side-by-side tube. By the end of the day, he was going down the rapids but was still petrified if i let him go, despite the life vest. I'm thankful that I'm a strong swimmer and don't panic if he pushes me underwater, but I worried a great deal that he would never develop a love for or a confidence in water. So, at the local pool in NJ he wore the vest and slowly remembered that he could go deep enough where he didn't touch the ground. Again, my friend's kids were instrumental in a positive peer pressure sort of way, but NMTB was still fearful. AITB was a wreck, freaking out over the sand she had to walk on just to get to our spot, and scared to the point of hyperventilating when i took her into the water. By the end of the NJ visit, she was ok standing in the water, but didn't dare sit or go in without clinging to me. 

Museum of Natural History, NYC

During our time in NJ, we met up with a childhood friend of mine who has a daughter just 2 months younger than AITB. Coincidentally, her younger sister has a daughter 2 weeks younger than AITB and who, by an amazing coincidence, has the same first name as AITB! (After all, how could another kid have the same initials, too ;) ) We met in NYC to visit the Natural History Museum which was an exhausting but very fun trip. The kids were so tired that they fell asleep at the end of the museum visit or shortly after leaving which left us to have a sushi lunch, which was a wonderful luxury for me, especially, since I haven't had the opportunity to have quality sushi since leaving CA. AITB woke up in time to enjoy some miso soup and devour the seaweed garnish and sashimi. It had been a hot and tiring day but another excellent experience under our belts. 

Our trip to NJ ended with a 2 night stay at the shore visiting family and celebrating the high school graduation of my nephew. This was NMTB's first trip to the beach since 2010 and he loved it. The experience at the pool clearly helped him as did the fact that his cousins were totally ok with the ocean waves. AITB, on the other hand, was yet again totally wigging out ... at first. After learning that the sand and beach toys were a welcome alternative she calmed down and was able to take in the water experience with much less stress. The kids each got a shark tooth necklace as their first bit of shore/ocean swag. We enjoyed a great graduation party and time at the beach house with lots of people whom I haven't seen in a very long time and who the kids never met. Our last night there was spent at the boardwalk riding rides and my brother winning NMTB and his cousin each a light up "bubble gun".

Popping wheelies on the Boardwalk

Filling the night sky with bubbles

 I think this is where they realized finally that the essence of the trip was to meet new people, experience new things, have fun, and relax. We drove back to Baltimore to spend a few more days experiencing DC and celebrating 4th of July. We went to the U of M pool on Friday where NMTB was shown this neat "jousting" device that helps kids learn balance in the water. After literally a couple of minutes, he was no longer fearful/clingy in the water and was swimming alone with a vest! That allowed me to focus on AITB and get her accustomed to the near weightlessness sensation. On the 6th, we packed up all of our stuff - the suitcases, backpacks, car seats, travel crib, and stroller - to head to our final destination in CT, again by train. 

Knocked out on the train again.

I finally got kicked off and had to sit on the floor.

We spent 3.5 weeks in Connecticut, in house just a few yards from a private lake that we share with the neighbors. The house itself sits on a quiet dead end road. I have many, many fond memories of swimming and rowing in the lake as well as driving to RI to spend the day at the beach. 

Of course, with the kids' water/swimming issues, I was no longer really looking forward to time in the water and was a bit stressed out over how to spend our days. Of course there were things to do within 30min - 2h away, but that sort of repetitive car travel takes its toll on me and the kids. Plus, I wanted to be back in the lake again after nearly 10y away! Maybe if the kids saw that I had fun and there weren't all those distractions - like the other kids at the pool and the toys at the beach - then maybe they could focus on developing their skills and hone their independence. On our first trip to the lake there was a sight I'd never seen before ... FROGS! Dozens and dozens of freshly developed frogs just sitting at the waters edge! There were humongous tadpoles in the water, too, and frogs still with tails both in and out of the water. 

The entire shoreline had freshly developed frogs hanging out. 

These really scared NMTB and so he relegated himself to always entering the water from the dock. AITB was having none of this water business for a couple of days, but slowly loosened her grip on me each day. We did go to the beach and the kids wore their vests on the first day; each trip after that though we were told they couldn't have vests if the water was too rough and then finally on the last day we were told that they couldn't have vests regardless of the conditions. Inconsistent rules that changed day by day and NMTB was pretty pissed the last day that he couldn't go into the water by himself. Back to CT, we visited a public access beach on another lake where there is a much lower grade to enter the lake, unlike ours which has a short shallow part and then a steep and muddied drop off. Here, AITB developed some independence thanks to the pool noodles I bought, having been inspired by that jousting thing at the UM pool. These are what changed everything for both kids! AITB had clearly wanted to play with NMTB and be independent in the water like he was now. Now she had something that gave her that independence while also helping her develop a sense of balance in the water. Within a day she was swimming by herself with the noodle and by the end of the week she didn't even want the noodle as a support device but rather as a toy, just as NMTB was using his. It was amazing to witness such an amazing physical and psychological/cognitive development! 

A seagull brazenly took his grilled cheese out of his hand and left him, instead, with this badge of honor. 

Castle builder

Our plane ride back home to Texas was exhausting. Initially we were supposed to stay in CT until 8/8, but I changed the flight to 7/30 (thank you Southwest for the no-change fees!) because I felt like the trip had been taking its toll on the kids and they would likely need an extra week of bumming around and adjusting before heading back to school so quickly. This was a great idea, inspired by a conversation with LB about how the kids were acting while in CT, a combination of instability and exhaustion manifesting itself into outright jerkiness by both of them. So, instead of a short flight to BWI and then a 3.5h flight to SA, we took a 2.5h flight to Chicago with a 1.5h layover and then another 2.5h flight to Austin. LB got us a hotel room, set everything up for our arrival after midnight and that was a wonderful thing to come "home" to. The last thing I wanted for the kids was to have to drive 1.5h to get home. After all, they'd likely be so excited to see their father after a long trip without him that they wouldn't sleep and then they'd be ultra-jerky! NMTB has, since birth, had difficulty sleeping and becomes inconsolable for several minutes up to an hour if he wakes up abruptly. Unfortunately, he fell asleep with an hour left in the flight, at about 10.30pm, well after his bedtime, even though AITB fell asleep 15min after takeoff. I had to wake him up after only 40min of sleeping and, of course, he was hysterical. I also had to wake up AITB who had, a few minutes earlier, fallen off her seat while I was asleep. Poor girl! She adjusts very well to being woken up though, thankfully. I got them both off the plane after lots of encouragement (and verification by a quick phone call) that their father was at the gate waiting for them. I put AITB into the front of the stroller, tossed the backpacks and diaper bag in the back seat, had NMTB walking in front of me and, as we exited the jetway, I saw LB's shoes. I asked NMTB, who had mostly gotten himself under emotional control, "Hey, look, who's there?" NMTB walked, then ran, crying so hard at the sight of his father towards LB. AITB, who saw him shortly after NMTB did, waited a few seconds before jumping off the stroller, something she's never done before. She, likewise, started crying. It took a good 5min of them holding and hugging each other for us to leave the gate and collect the bags. The hotel LB got was absolutely wonderful with the most comfortable bedding and mattress ever. We relaxed and had a midnight meal (we hadn't had anything but snacks the whole trip) while watching, as though scripted for a movie, Chopped. NMTB wanted to sleep with LB and AITB, for the first time ever did not want to sleep alone and instead slept with me in the other bed. She did not move all night long! The next day we drove home to SA and the kids were ecstatic to see the dogs again. 

It was a wonderful trip in which I got to visit family and friends and they got to meet my kids. Above all, I got to spend time seeing my kids develop new skills and personalities. Now that we are at home, they are happy to be back in their beds with a less intensive schedule. But I've decided to take advantage of their new-found love of water and get a Y membership. As luck would have it, the pool was closed due to an accident the day before (yikes!), so we checked out the local community pool. It isn't a bad option for a day, but I doubt we're going to get a whole summer membership next year. However, the most amazing thing happened! NMTB went into the water without much hesitation without his vest - he did ask for it, but since LB was able to focus attention on AITB, I figured NMTB needed to experience water without the vest with me helping me instead. In just a few minutes he was swimming several feet at a time, then swam virtually the whole width of the pool, about 45 feet! Then he saw the diving board and started jumping off into 10 feet of water, swimming over the ladder after "tagging" me in the middle of the pool (I waited about 6' from the board in case something happened and to help him to the surface if he needed it). Can you believe it?! From intense fear to jumping into 10' of water! And AITB was steady as a rock, floating, swimming, playing with her vest on. She did try the diving board, but was too afraid to jump, a very prudent move on her part. It was a great day and I look forward to our last week of vacation before they go back to school and I go back to work. I have no regrets about leaving research and going into public service, especially if I get to have summers and experiences like this every year!